


I haven't stopped loving you once

by cigarettesandalcohol



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Getting Back Together, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Past Relationship(s), kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-05-20 09:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19374166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cigarettesandalcohol/pseuds/cigarettesandalcohol
Summary: Jürgen Klopp has an unexpected visitor after his team's win against Barcelona.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's not the same Kloppo from the "With or Without You" story. That one was possessive and kind of harsh; this Klopp is very soft and caring.

Philippe Coutinho was the last person Jürgen would expect to see a message from. At the same time, it was the one message that really caught his attention; there were too many people congratulating him but the Brazilian's name really stood out of all the other names. By nature, Klopp was a curious person, and this definitely needed his attention even in the hysterically joyous atmosphere of a magic 4-0 win at Anfield.

 

_Congratulations, Boss. It pains me to write it but you really deserved this win tonight. Now I hope you'll do well in the final. God be with you. P. C._

 

The official sound of the message surprised, though not as much as Phil calling him 'Boss'. He hasn't been his boss for _more than a year_ now, well, and before, he didn't even call him 'Boss' in the private conversation, no, he called him many other things but never 'Boss'.

Jürgen looked at the message again and then, out of habit, he tried to scroll up to see older messages. There were none to be displayed. He had deleted them all - _more than a year_ ago.

 

_Hello, Phil_

 

He felt a strange sting in his guts as he the message. 

 

_Thank you for the nice message, I appreciate that. Would you have some time to meet now?_

 

He sent it before he had the chance to question his motives or the equally officially sounding tone of the text.

 

_I want to see you_

_Your city apartment?_

_Yes_

Well, that sounded more like their old conversations.

Phil didn't answer the last message though. It left Jürgen's heart and mind on hold. He still left the Liverpool celebrations; he's seen enough of Dejan all over Mo, Milly crying his eyes out and Origi dancing his strange freestyle in the dressing room. The whole ride to his city address, he couldn't stop his fingers from tapping on the steering wheel nervously.

So little Phil is back in Liverpool, huh? He looked in the rear view mirror and noticed the mischevious sparkle in his own eyes. The cute Brazilian is back in the cold, moody British city. How convenient... Under such circumstances. Fate has really played with them both ever since he had left, right? Last year - the Champions League. Barcelona out. This year, the Champions League again, and this time, with a little bit of an Anfield twist. How could Phil possibly feel about being back in Liverpool, where the ultras used to burn his shirts and curse his name?

In fact, he'd left all the bitterness behind a long time ago. Phil has moved on. He's probably moved on as well because what else was there to do with Phil gone?

In the lift, he typed a short message to his wife, apologizing and explaining how he won't be able to make it home tonight. She seemed to understand. _Wild celebrations? ;)_ she wrote back, and he had to smile at her lovely supportive side. She was the best wife he could have asked for. 

_Yes, exactly. I'll sleep in the city apartment, good night x_

He knew it was cheating - well, it used to be, anyway. With Phil. Never with anyone else. It was always only his wife - and Cou. None of them could ever be replaced. He learned that cruel fact as soon as Coutinho left. His wife was perfect in all imaginable aspects, yet it still wasn't enough, and Klopp was sure the Brazilian wouldn't be enough if he was ever to leave his wife for him. He needed the equilibrium, the healthy balance of those two by his side.

He found a corked bottle of Chilean wine in the fridge in the apartment, and he immediately took it out and opened it. Phil still hadn't answered his last message while his wife has already wished him a good night - the paradox made him smile, though there was an unmistakable pain around his heart while thinking of it.

He poured himself a glass of the wine and went to sit in the armchair with his phone in his other hand, to check the latest news and reactions to the unbelievable win. His mind was still running away to the one man who turned his whole world upside down some years ago. He didn't really see nor cared about what some random people were writing on Twitter, his mind was occupied by the image of one lonely Brazilian trying to sneak unnoticed through the streets of Liverpool. How hard it must be now? If the same ultras who used to burn his shirts found him now, they would crucify him while laughing at him.

And while Klopp has spent the last year trying to erase all those sentimental feelings towards the man from his heart, now, in the dark room of his city apartment on the third floor of the old red brick building, his heart encountered the long-forgotten ache. 

 The short buzz of the doorbell rang and Klopp suddenly felt three years younger. Nobody else had such nervously short press of the doorbell. 

"Yes?" he spoke into the speaker, and his heart rate went from normal functions into cosmic heights as soon as he heard the accented English from the other side.

"Yes? It's me."

'Me' couldn't mean anyone else. 'It's me' always meant Coutinho. 'It's me' was the answer to the intercom function in the first months of their secret relationship, then, Klopp gave him the key so Phil could come and go whenever he liked.

Philippe gave him the key back the day before he left for Barcelona.

"Come upstairs," he said mechanically as if Philippe had any other choice now.

He opened the door and waited for Phil in the empty hallway. Yes, Philippe, as sporty as he was, ran up the stairs all the way, and he had a funny cap on his head, covering half of his face, which was probably to avoid any recognition and humiliation on the streets of Liverpool. He seemed to be in a good shape but as soon as his eyes met Klopp's, he stumbled a little and leaned against the railing. 

"Hello," he exhaled, breathy after the ran up the stairway.

"Hi, Phil."

He looked exactly the same as Klopp remembered him - the same, dark chocolate eyes and blindingly white teeth, likable face and young looks, even under that terrible cap.

 "Come in."

"Thank you."

Klopp lead him into the apartment in the same manner as two years ago.

"How are you?" Coutinho asked politely, and Klopp had to wonder whether this polite yet useless question was part of his intense courses of the English language when he'd arrived in Liverpool. 

"Good, good."

Was there even any other way to respond to such a question?

"We won tonight, after all." He can't stop himself from joking, not even now. He's sure it might ease the tension.

Coutinho smiled. "I know."

"And how are you?"

"Fine," Cou sais with a wide smile. He would always smile, no matter how stressful or nerve-wracking the situation was. Klopp had noticed that a long, long time ago. That was one of the many things he could appreciate in the young Brazilian. He always kept his positive appearance. You could never see him frown, you could never see him down. Maybe it was some Brazilian magic; for Klopp though, it was yet another reason to adore the little man.

"Even after today?"

Phil smirked. "Yes, even after today. It's... It's just a game.  I think it was you who told me so."

"I meant it. It is only a game." He watched Phil's hands, his fingers, his face and his smile, and all his determination to move on seemed to flop. "I never wished you anything bad, Phil."

Coutinho looked at him with a hint of a surprise in his eyes. "I would never think otherwise," he assured his former manager quietly.

"Good," Jürgen nodded. Then he smiled and touched the plan white cap on Coutinho's head. "I've got better ones, you know?"

"I know." In a second, he realized it's probably rude to still have that thing on his head even now, as they'd entered the apartment and were standing in the hallway, and he quickly took it off. "Sorry," he mumbled, feeling embarrassed by his lack of manners. Maybe Klopp mentioned his cap to politely inform him he should take it off? He looked at him, abashed, but Klopp still appeared to be in a cheery mood. 

"Wait, I'll show you," he said with a wide smile and went on to grab one of his own red LFC caps. Coutinho accepted his game.

"You would look better like this," Klopp said as he put his own cap on the Brazilian's head. It was a bit too big for him and fell down his forehead but Klopp still smiled at that sight. The red color suited him more than blaugrana combination.

Coutinho looked down, not sure what to say to that. He couldn't complain about his current club now, could he? 

"Phil?" Klopp asked after a moment of silence that felt much heavier in the narrow hallways with only one dim light. 

Philippe bit his lower lip and looked up. There was something new, strange and unfamiliar in his eyes - a hint of sadness? Jürgen's heart sank. 

"Come here," he said, and it was more of an order than a choice as he opened his arms. 

_Phil fits there so perfectly_ , he thought as he embraced the younger man.

After all, this was where he belonged all along.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's say they lived happily ever after. I'd like that ;')

Coutinho's body trembled in his embrace, as many times before, but now, it really touched Klopp's heart. He squeezed the boy's shoulders tight and then moved his palm up on the back of Phil's head, entangling his fingers in the raven black hair.

"You haven't changed a bit."

His words got lost in Phil's hair when he pressed his lips into it.

He could feel Philippe tense, probably holding back his breath. _Good boy_ , he thought. Always so shy and thoughtful and still sweet and seemingly outgoing - Klopp sometimes felt like he was the only who could see behind the perfect white smile and bright eyes. When they met for the first time in Liverpool, Cou was a young boy, away from home, and the smile was a way of dealing with everything. Whenever he didn't quite understand what was being said, or when he didn't get something his English mates were saying or joking about when he found himself left behind as the other guys walked out of the dressing room - Phil would always smile. At first, Klopp found it charming and inspiring. When they grew closer, he found out, to his own surprise, that there's a frantically beating panicking heart in a tightened chest behind the disarming smile, and ever since then he has always paid close attention to everything Phil said and did.

It was Jürgen's nature to try and keep all the guys in the team happy, to make them feel at home at Anfield and at the training grounds, he became known as more of a father figure than a distant boss, and he gained quite a reputation because of that. With Phil, it was different. What was at first a regular feeling towards a new player and normal attempt to make his arrival to LFC as comfortable as possible, helping him get used to the club and welcome him into the Anfield family, soon turned into obsessive care and protection of the L _ittle Magician_. The older players joked about it - "ah, the new teacher's pet", they said - and Philippe just smiled and couldn't find the right words to explain how grateful he was for such a warm welcome. He was still struggling with his English when he wanted to thank Jürgen after a month in Liverpool. He stood in the doorway of Klopp's office at the training ground at Melwood, mumbling something about being grateful for all the care and attention he'd received since his arrival, obviously not quite used to the words that sounded so funny coming from his mouth. Klopp came closer to him, grinning the way only he could, and he squeezed Philippe in one of his bear hugs. And then it happened - maybe they stayed a little longer in an embrace, maybe Klopp was feeling pumped that day, maybe he just thought he'd caught some secret signals from Phil (though this has never happened to him before), as soon as he pulled away from the Brazilian, he felt a strong urge to hug him again, but not only hug him - he needed to kiss him, he physically needed this kiss more than air (though it has never happened to him before). 

He was terrified by his own action as soon as he felt Phil's lips part and his tongue slid in between - he was kissing his new player passionately in his office, and Phil's only response was throwing his hands around his boss' neck and closing his eyes. 

Yes, maybe back then he took advantage of Coutinho's still somewhat naive character and lack of security in the new environment. Who knows, maybe Phil felt like he should repay him all the care and friendliness of the first month this way; _who can tell_? But Philippe didn't protest, _on the contrary_. That day, not only their relationship was born; Jürgen also found out that Phil was a great kisser, who happened to like rough kisses and bites aimed at his neck (he would always throw his head back and bite his lips in an unsuccessful attempt to not let out the moans and hisses). As the relationship went on, he found out many other things about the Brazilian magic boy. He was ticklish, cuddly, and in his sleep, he would always throw his leg over Jürgen's, which was probably the only dominant gesture he was capable of by then - and it was done unconsciously. He also never wanted to sleep naked, he was still somewhat shy about being naked _after_ sex, and during sex, he made absolutely no sense, his words were always lost in a flood of emotions, gasps, and growls, although the lack of any real _talk_  or even basic verbal communication was more than compensated with the volume and passion, as he dug his fingers deeper in Jürgen's back.

Klopp has never intented to fetishize anyone's skin color, ethnicity and looks but - _mein Gott_ \- he adored the contrast between his own boring whitest of the white skin tone and Phil's one; it was specifically obvious when they entangled their fingers, which Klopp was very fond of. Not only Cou's skin looked great in contrast with his; the cinnamon-mocca skin was also perfectly smooth and warm, no matter when he touched it; be it at the training, rubbing the back of Coutinho's neck, or later under the stream of cool water in the shower, or even later, wrapped in the fresh smelling blankets of hotel rooms.

The memories of the months spent together made his eyes water with tears of regret and anger. _Why did it all end like this_?

"You should have never left."

 He inhaled sharply the familiar scent of the Brazilian's hair and it felt like home, happiness, and everything he's ever needed,

"I know," Phil whispered, leaning into the embrace as if he wished to disappear completely in Jürgen's chest, or wante to become part of him. "It was different back then - It was a challange. Who doesn't want to play for Barça?"

Klopp sighed, rubbing Phil's shoulders. To some level, he could understand the players' obsession with Spanish clubs, especially when they were not British - but he would still miss them in Liverpool, profesionally and personally alike. But would he wish all the best to Mané or Mo or Bobby if they decided to make this move? Naturally. They had everything they needed to play in Barcelona or Real. He would try his best to keep them in LFC but if they would make up their mind and there was no way of convincing them otherwise, he would support them in chasing their dreams and be proud of them, maybe not from the beginning, but in the span of a few months he wouldn't feel bitter nor angry about it. Some players come and go, that's life in football. He can't force them to play for a club they want to leave, no matter how many new clauses, promises and benefits the club can offer. Actually, he could imagine watching for example Sadio play for Barça and feeling proud, like a father watching his son succeed - Look at him, I made him, he's there because I supported him. But not with Phil. Even if Phil had the best season of his life, which he didn't, he would still feel jealous, betrayed and sour. He could assure the media he doesn't care and he could even make fun of Phil's failure at Barcelona, but it could never heal the scar left by the Little Magician's departure.

"I didn't know what I was losing." Phil's voice was dry and desperate, it didn't suit him and made him sound twenty years older. Jürgen pulled away, which required a lot of energy since Philippe was still holding onto him.

"I did," Klopp said calmly. Philippe locked eyes with him, demanding more words simply by his look, but Jürgen couldn't say more because every word about Coutinho's departure was still cutting deep.

An intense hug followed by a moment of silence - _they've been there_. Only this time, it wasn't the taller, older man initiating the kiss; it was Phil, throwiing his arms around Jürgen's neck first and standing on tiptoes to get as close as possible, and then plundering his mouth hungrily, getting his own lips all wet and swollen - all with his eyes tighr shut, though the desperation of this act was palpable in his every fibre.

"I never stopped loving you once," he breathed out as their lips finally parted, eyes still closed. Now his face seemed more relaxed as if he let all the desparation out with the kiss, and now his whole body just gave up, waiting for the Klopp's verdict.

Jürgen stroked Phil's hair. "If you had the chance," he said dreamily, focusing on the structure of the black hair, "would you consider coming back?"

Philippe opened his eyes, and for a moment, Jürgen could see his wide, dilated pupils in the darkened room, wondering whether it was because of the light or because of him.

"I would."

"And would you _actually_ come back?"

Coutinho's lashes fluttered. He nodded quietly.

Jürgen fixed Phil's hair a little and smiled. "You'll always be welcomed here, after all."

As a confirmation of his words, he kissed Phil, and the kiss was much shorter and gentler than the frantic makeout session before. Phil still let out a little gasp as he pulled back. "Wanna stay here?" Klopp asked, realizing that his voice practically changed from a mellow tone into purring.

"In Liverpool?" Philippe asked fearfully, and once again, he was just a kid, far away from home and struggling with the foreign language. 

"I meant this apartment. But you can take it as a test."

Judging by the messy sheets clinging to their sweaty bodies in a stuffy bedroom that hot night, Philippe passed the test with flying colors.


End file.
